Noel: A Jack and Karen Fic
by gracie3
Summary: PG 13 for language. When Christmas rolls around and Karen's alone, Jack gives her back her joy. JackKaren romance fic.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Will and Grace, they belong to NBC and KoMut. The lyrics to "Unwell" belong to Matchbox Twenty. And the lyrics to "Sideways" belong to the lovely Matt Caplan of RENT!

Title: Noel: A Jack and Karen Fic  
  
Author: Jessie    
  
Ratings: PG-13 for language.   
  


Classification: Romance fic, Jack/Karen exclusively with a little outside action.   
   
Summary: When Christmas rolls around and Karen's alone, Jack gives her her joy back. This fic explores a bit of Karen's past, and it explains how she ended up the way she is.

**__**

**_Noel_**

**_A Jack and Karen fic_**

****

            Karen Walker was sober. For the first time in a long time she hadn't touched a drink the whole day. As a matter of fact, she hadn't eaten or drank anything the whole day. She'd spent the day in the limo, driving around the city, trying to ignore Christmas Eve. 

            It wasn't easy. New York at Christmastime was a montage of lights, tinsel, and posters screaming holiday sales. Barney's, Prada, Macy's, and Gucci… all advertising prices to fit any budget and holiday glamour… she was sick of it. Rolling up the tinted and mirrored window of the limo, she sighed and sat back. Normally at this time she'd be on her fifth martini of the afternoon, buzzed and enjoying it. Normally now she'd be at home waiting for Rosario to finish cooking the chickens… one for her and the brats, and two for Stan. Normally she would be able to ignore this.

            Not this year. Stan was gone, the kids were with First Wife (she'd never bothered to learn the woman's name… something like Laura or Lara…no, Kathy… or something…), and she was sitting in the limo alone.

            Not that she missed the kids. It was easier to enjoy yourself without the little midgets running around yelling for presents and Santa, and as for Stan, well… there was nothing quite like Christmas dinner with Stanley Walker.

            The limo hissed silently along the streets and stopped smoothly. "Home, Mrs. Walker," Driver said, and stepped out to open the door for her. She was too distracted to acknowledge him, and half-wandered to the door of the building. The doorman nodded to her, and she headed for the elevator. Sighing, she rode up to the top floor. 

            The living room was decorated with holly and ribbons, and Rosario's Nativity set was standing under the huge real tree. Jack would be over to help Karen decorate it later. That was something she'd never done, but Jack had suggested it as a way to cheer her up.

            Karen flopped onto her bed and looked up at the high ceiling.

           She remembered a time, years ago, when she used to do this same thing… long before she'd met Stan or Lucas, her first husband. When she had long, long hair and something to look forward to. When she took pride in the fact that she'd gone a whole day without a drink, and still walked instead of riding a limo.

            "Karen?"

            Jack's voice interrupted her thoughts. Karen sat up and smiled a little. "Hi, poodle." She glanced at the clock. "You're early."

            Then she noticed his appearance. Jack's normally clean-shaven face had a dark five-o'clock shadow, and he looked as if he hadn't gotten much sleep. The stubble was kind of sexy, she thought, and then shook her head. 

            Jack flopped down beside her. He was holding a small box and a big bottle of wine. "Your Christmas present," he said, holding out the little box. 

            "Oh, poodle, how sweet!" Karen went straight for the wine. "You even got red wine!"

            "No, Karen, look!" Jack took the bottle out of her hands and put the box into them. "It's a real present."

            Karen looked at him in puzzlement. "Why?"

            "Because it's traditional, Kare," Jack explained. "People give each other presents on Christmas."

            Karen looked at him. "I _know_ that, Jack." She looked at the present. It was beautifully wrapped in white paper with white ribbon. "But why did you get it? I didn't get anybody anything this year."

            Jack grinned. "I know that. But you need cheering up. No, you _deserve it." He kissed her on the cheek and Karen smelled liquor._

            "Jack, are you drunk?" she asked, putting the box down on the night stand.

            Jack looked down. "I… I might have had a drink or three earlier…"

            "Why?"

            "It's Christmas. Why shouldn't I celebrate a little?" Jack looked up at her, blue eyes innocent, but Karen knew he was lying.

            "Oh, come on," Karen said. "Jackie, you never drink. What's going on?"

            Jack shook his head. "No big deal. Now crack open that wine and let's celebrate Christmas."

            Karen took the bottle and yanked the cork out. She never used a bottle opener; she didn't need to. 

            She pulled two wineglasses out of the night stand and filled them almost to the brim. Handing one to Jack, she took a sip. So much for a day without alcohol.

            Jack raised his glass. "To best friends," he said. "And to the people we love."

            "And to those who love us back," Karen added, and they clinked glasses. They both drank deeply and Karen reached for the present.

            "No," Jack said, stopping her. "That's for later."

            Karen pouted a little. "Fine, fine." She took another drink. "Talk to me, Jackie, I'm bored."

            Jack rolled over onto his stomach and sipped more wine. "_You talk," he said, a grin lighting up his beautiful boyish features. "I've exhausted my store of conversation."_

            Karen wrinkled her nose. "What the hell do I say?"

            "I dunno," Jack said. "Christmas is a time for nostalgia. So tell me something about your past! When you were young!"

            Off Karen's insulted look he laughed. "Get over yourself, Karen. You're still the most beautiful girl I know, no matter what age you are. Now interest me."

            Karen put the glass down. "How long ago are we talking?" she asked warily.

            "Years ago. When I was a kid in a piano studio on the Upper East Side wondering what the hell I was going to do with my life. Tell me something about yourself back when we were both young and stupid."

            "Don't kid yourself, Jackie, you're still stupid," Karen joked, and then leaned on his shoulder. "Fine. If you really want to hear…"

            "Yes, yes, yes!" Jack said, and made himself comfortable among the sheets and pillows.

            Karen looked up thoughtfully. "I had an apartment on the Upper East Side…"

* * * *

            The mirror painted a satisfactory picture. Karen Delaney adjusted the collar of her shirt and pulled her long hair back into a ponytail. Her mother had been yelling at her for months to get it cut. It fell halfway down her back in a long sheet, the almost-black color spangled with natural red and blonde highlights. Eyeliner emphasized big chocolate brown eyes. With a final touch to her lipstick, Karen pronounced herself ready to step into the world. A camel-colored corduroy coat over jeans, a deep red turtleneck sweater and stiletto boots completed the picture.

            Twenty-five-year-old Karen Delaney was just out of college and looking for a job. She didn't know what she was going to do with her life yet, but New York was proving to be the most exciting place she had ever lived. The hustle and bustle of the New York streets was intriguing and exciting and Karen was happy there. 

            She made her way down Lexington Avenue, past D'Agostino and a big school on 68th Street with the engraving "Talent Unlimited High School" over the door. 

            As she walked up Lexington, she heard the faintest strain of piano music and frowned. But she couldn't be sure, because cars were going by.  She kept walking, and the music became clearer. She became engrossed in the sound and slowed down. 

            A glass-front piano studio housed a grand piano in the front room. Someone was seated at the bench, playing a piece she recognized as Mozart's Fourteenth Piano Sonata. She stopped in front of the window. She didn't know why, but she felt strangely drawn to the music. 

            The person playing the music was young, younger than she expected. He was maybe sixteen. Karen stood there, listening, and the noise of the street faded away. Suddenly, this beautiful boy-man looked up at her. He had the most strikingly stunning blue eyes Karen had ever seen. She felt a strange sensation inside as her heart leapt and her stomach turned over. Startled, she jumped back into the crowd of people passing by. No one was supposed to know she enjoyed classical music.

            The young man got up, frowning, and opened the door, leaning out. Where had she gone? He could have sworn there had been a beautiful woman standing in the window, listening to him play. He had been struck by her appearance, this small woman with long dark hair and big hazel eyes. She had been a surprise. He could have sworn…

            "Jack?" someone's voice came in from inside. "Why did you stop? The lesson isn't over. Are you planning on going somewhere?"

            "No… nowhere," the young man said.

            "Jack McFarland, you are never going to be a star if you don't _practice," the voice said, and sixteen-year-old Jack McFarland went back to his piano, still ringing from his encounter with Karen Delaney, the woman whose name he did not know._

            Karen, meanwhile, continued down the street, heading towards the subway, on her way to see Stanley Walker. Why she was dating him, she had no idea. Her half-a-year marriage to Lucas St.Croix-Popeil had just ended eight months ago. Stanley Walker was not a beautiful man. Nor was he particularly intelligent. And he was married. But there was over six hundred million in that man's trust fund, with more to come, and she was no fool. Stan seemed to worship her, and the thought of that much money was tantalizing, to say the least. Ambition, if not love, would make this relationship work.

            The token clinked into the booth and Karen pushed into the subway station. The 6 train roared into the station and Karen stepped on. 42nd Street…to the shuttle, to the A train… 125th Street… the Walker mansion loomed over her, imposing, white, beige, and gray. Ambition fulfilled.

* * * *

            "Kare, that was _you_ at the studio that day?" Jack asked in total amazement, interrupting Karen's story. "God, I hardly remembered that."

            "Yeah," Karen answered. "I knew when I met you I knew those eyes from _somewhere, I could never place where." She took another long drink of wine and sighed. "I was young and stupid."_

            "Tell me more, tell me more," Jack said, draining the last of his wine and looking up at his best friend adoringly. 

            "Like what?"

            "Like how you married Stan. How you…" he trailed off.

            "How I what?"

            "Never mind," Jack said. "Tell me how this all happened." He gestured to the beautiful room around them.

            Karen poured more wine for both of them. "This is just one of our houses, you know."

            "I know," Jack said. "It's fabulous." He tugged Karen's sleeve like a little boy. "Tell me."

            Karen sighed.

* * * *

      She was alone. The huge bed was empty but for her small existence, and Karen felt it acutely. She watched the shadows slide across the wall as some car or other went by. The dull ache between her legs had not gone away for the past two days, but she was afraid to do anything about it. She simply laid there, eyes still densely lined with the day's makeup, lipstick worn away. She was afraid to move. 

      Two days ago, Stan had come home very drunk, drunker than she had ever seen him in her life. He had wanted sex, and she didn't, but Stanley Walker always got what he wanted. 

      He had pushed her down onto the living room floor, fists heavy and unrelenting against her protests. Karen had never known anyone with such hate and rage in them, and with every painful thrust of those oversized hips, she'd lost a little of her love for him until he finally stopped, exhausted, and she was numb.

      She refused to believe it was rape: after all, she was his fiancée. But it still hurt her physically and emotionally that he had thought he could use her that way. She had no one to tell her it was all right to be hurt and afraid. She believed she had been cruel to him to withhold sex, and she must have deserved it. She didn't know that if she said no and he didn't listen, it was rape, no matter who it was or what the relationship that existed.

_All day,_

_Staring at the ceiling,_

_Making friends with shadows on my wall._

_All night,_

_Hearing voices telling me that I should get some sleep_

_Because tomorrow might be good for something…_

_Hold on,_

_Feeling like I'm headed for a breakdown,_

_And I don't know why…_

      Karen rolled over and looked out the window, the outside view slotted by the blinds. All she could see was the streetlights and the lights of the houses across the street in a blue-black surrounding. The clock flashed 2:57 AM. God only knew where Stan was. He had come to bed for a few hours and then gotten up to go God knows where. Karen looked over at their clothes scattered on the floor, the huge diamond on her ring finger, and the bottle of whiskey with two glasses on the nightstand.

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell,_

_I know, right now you can't tell._

_But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see_

_A different side of me._

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired,_

_I know, right now you don't care._

_But soon enough you're gonna think of me,   
And how I used to be… me…_

_      It wasn't that she was unhappy. She had everything she wanted and more. Stan_

was good for a few hours of conversation and sex, and then he seemed to lose steam and sink away from her.

            She had finally moved in with Stan. It was only rarely now she took the subway instead of the limo. She had unlimited shopping time and unlimited money. It was the _life, and she knew it._

            She pulled the sheets around herself, ignoring the chill on her bare skin, wanting comfort, not heat. 

_I'm talking to myself in public,_

_And dodging glances on the train._

_And I know,_

_I know they've all been talking about me,_

_I can hear them whisper…_

_And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me._

_Out of all the hours thinking,_

_Somehow,_

_I've lost my mind._

            The wedding was in two months. Then she would be Mrs. Karen Delaney-St. Croix-Popeil-Walker. A venerable compilation of names. They piled up on her and seemed at times to weigh a lot, filled with memories. 

            She hadn't been unhappy with Lucas. But it was the mistress that had set her off, and finally Karen broke under the strain. With tears and screaming she had thrown Lucas out of her life and moved out, back to another apartment. She had gotten used to ordering people around, and her former timidity with people had vanished into an imperious exterior. Now she was caught in a new whirlwind marriage, full of money and promise, and she could only pray—not that she did that—that this one would work out.

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell,_

_I know, right now you can't tell._

_But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see_

_A different side of me._

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired,_

_I know, right now you don't care._

_But soon enough you're gonna think of me,   
And how I used to be…_

            Sleep was a heavy thing, she noticed vaguely. Alcohol did that to you. She reached out groggily for the tumbler closest to her, still half-full, and took a big gulp, wincing at the burn. But it helped. She had to be half out of the bag to be able to have sex with Stan anyway. So a little more wouldn't hurt.

            Lately she found herself slipping back into her college ways, drinking heavily and indulging her expensive tastes. Her closet was another room entirely, with separate spaces for shoes, scarves, dresses, suits, everything that had caught her eye. Names like Gucci, Prada, Chanel, Vera Wang, and Armani sat together and made an expensive wardrobe worth literally several millions of dollars.

            Not to mention the servants. The one person she genuinely liked, though she would never admit to having any connection with the help, was Rosario, the maid she had hired by herself. 

            Karen immersed herself in drinking and shopping as an escape. But from what she wasn't quite sure. 

* * * *

            "Oh, my god," was all Jack could manage when Karen stopped talking. 

            "Yeah." She drowned the memory in more wine. "Wonderful, isn't it?"

            "Karen, why didn't you _leave _him?" Jack asked, rolling over onto his back and folding his hands behind his head.

            "Honey, how could I?" Karen asked. "His money was everything to me. If I'd left him, I never would have had all this, and never would have come to work for Grace, or met you…" she trailed off. "If I hadn't married Stan, I wouldn't be here. And neither would you."

            Jack thought for a long moment. "I think we would have met."

            "You do?" Karen adjusted her position to lie alongside him, bracing her head on one hand. "Why?"

            "It's destiny." Jack turned his head to look at her, blue eyes wide and serious. "I mean, we met way back when, and we had no idea we'd cross paths again. Oh hey, that rhymes." He grinned.

            Karen considered her best friend's logic. "Maybe," she agreed. 

            Jack sat up. "No maybes, Karen. There are no maybes in life. At least that's the way I see it. There's destiny and there's destiny. Nothing else matters."

            "Ugh, don't get philosophical on me, Jack," Karen groaned, covering her eyes with her hands. "I'm supposed to be escaping the world tonight."

            "Yeah." Jack leaned his head on her shoulder and placed a hand over her breast. "That's my job. To distract you."

            Karen never minded this absentminded fondling that went on between them. It was a sweet little half-joke they had, and more often than not, Jack was a release for all the sexual energy she built up and could never release with her own stupid husband. It was beyond frustrating sometimes, but those big blue eyes and that unbelievable kiss could solve so much. 

            A moment later she realized he wasn't letting go of her, and she felt his breath on her neck. "Jack." She frowned. "What are you doing?"

            The warmth disappeared. "Sorry."

            She felt cold suddenly. She didn't want him to stop. "It's okay." She reached for his embrace. "I just didn't realize…"

            "What? Didn't realize what?"

            For some reason it was getting warm in the room. Karen found herself unable to look away from those beautiful aquamarine eyes, and when their lips met it was a shock. As always, Karen experienced a minor internal shutdown that left her completely open when Jack moved to embrace her.

            His weight pressed down onto her, and Karen felt what she had never felt with Stan: anticipation. She let him grow increasingly passionate. His hands undid the buttons of her shirt, slowly, slowly, one by one until he reached her trousers. There his hands lingered for a long moment before finally beginning to undo the zipper.

            Then something else settled down on her. Fear. _What the hell am I doing?_ She frowned. _What the hell am I letting him do?_ She felt her panic choke her.

_            "Jack," she gasped. He didn't stop. "Jack, please." She pushed him off her._

            Jack rolled off the bed. With a painful thump he hit the floor. "Ow, Karen!" He sat up. "What was that for?"

            Karen couldn't move. The fright was draining out of her, sapping her of strength. Jack climbed back onto the bed. "God, Karen, just tell me to stop!" He rubbed his shoulder painfully. "Christ, you didn't have to maim me."

            "I'm sorry," Karen said. "I'm sorry. You scared me."

            "I scared you?" Jack frowned. "Karen, you've never objected to that before!"

            "Well this time I did!" Karen started to redo the buttons of her shirt. 

            "Why?" Jack looked ironically like a little boy who has found nothing under the Christmas tree. 

            "It's nothing." There was no way in hell he was going to know she enjoyed that. Her husband wasn't dead half a year and she was ready to sleep with some other guy.

            "Karen, why? What did I do?"

            "You certainly went further than any other time!" Karen was burning red with embarrassment as pulled up her zipper again. 

            Jack put his head in his hands. "Karen, I'm drunk! I do things weird when I'm drunk. What's the big deal?"

            Karen closed her eyes. "The big deal is I enjoyed that. Okay? Happy?"

            Jack stopped, and then laughed. "Of course you did! Don't you always?"

            "Well, sure," Karen admitted. "But… it's different this time."

            "Why?" Jack looked puzzled. 

            "Don't even ask," Karen said, rolling her eyes. "Listen, let's go eat something. I'm starving."

            "Can we watch the Christmas specials on TV?" Jack clapped his hands.

            "Honey…" Karen shook her head. "I don't do that."

            "Oh, come on, Karen, you didn't watch when Santa came in at the end of the Thanksgiving parade. Where's your holiday spirit?"

            _It's long since gone, she thought bitterly. "I'm a little distracted."_

            "Well, you suggested food," Jack said. "Come to think of it, I _am hungry. Let's go." He got up off the bed and took his best friend's hand. "Don't worry about it, okay? I'm sorry I scared you."_

            Karen couldn't smile. She simply squeezed his hand and let him lead her out into the living room. 

            Rosario was hanging garlands from the curtain rods. She looked down from her perch atop the stepladder. "It's about time you two came out," she said, half-scolding. "Dinner's on the table."

            Karen sat down across from Jack at the dining room table. Two servants came out with steaming trays of food, and set down fresh roast lamb, greens, steaming mashed potatoes, soup, and salads. Jack looked impressed.

            "Come on, honey, you act like you've never had dinner here before," Karen said off his look.

            "Karen, I haven't," Jack reminded her. "You never invited me."

            "Oh." Karen dismissed this, and held up her glass for wine. "Well, you're here now, and I order you to enjoy yourself."

            Jack dove into the food with the eagerness of a man half-starved. "Whoa," Karen said. "Slow down, honey."

            Jack looked up, mouth full. "Sorry," he managed around everything, and swallowed. "So listen, when are we going caroling?"

            "Caroling?" Karen frowned. "I'm not going anywhere. This holiday crap is too much."

            An hour later, both of them were slumped on the sofa in the living room, exhausted and too full to move. "Ugh. You were right, Kare," Jack said. "Forget caroling. I can't move."

            Karen had yet another martini in her hand. "Are you ever going to stop drinking that thing?" Jack asked. 

            Karen shot him a look. "Why?"

            "Because." Jack took the martini out of her hand. "I want you to _enjoy tonight. Come on, Karen. For me."_

            "Fine, fine." Karen gave up. 

            "Now. What's one thing you've never done on Christmas?" Jack asked, crossing his legs Indian-style.

            "Stayed sober?" Karen shook her head. 

            Jack laughed. "_Besides_ that, Kare."

            Karen thought. "I've never been in a horse-drawn carriage down the snowy streets of New York." She meant this sarcastically, but Jack got to his feet.

            "Then let's go," he said. "Central Park isn't too far."

            Karen blinked. "Jack, I was _kidding_."

            "But I'm not." He held out his hand. "Let's go, Karen."

            She let him pull her to her feet. _What am I doing?_ she wondered as Jack gave her her coat and summoned the limo. "Jack, where the hell are we going to find a carriage at ten-thirty at night on Christmas Eve?"

            "You'd be surprised," Jack said as they pulled up alongside Central Park where a row of carriages draped in holly and evergreen were waiting.

            Two minutes later they were standing in front of a magnificent red and black carriage with an equally magnificent white horse reined to the front. "Your carriage awaits," Jack said, sweeping a bow and helping her into it. "Onward!" he said to the driver, who promptly chucked the reins and started off. 

            Karen looked up into the sky. "It's not snowing."

            Jack winked. "Wait." The weather forecast had said snow, and it was only a matter of time. Karen, of course, didn't know this (she didn't watch the weather forecast), and so it would be doubly surprising. 

            True to Jack's predictions, the snow began not two minutes later, and Karen looked at her best friend in astonishment. Jack simply smiled. "Merry Christmas, Karen."

            Karen was enjoying herself, despite everything. She watched the park go by, Jack's hand closed tightly around her own. "See?" Jack said to her a moment later. "_This is what Christmas is all about." _

            Karen felt like a little girl all of a sudden. She looked over at Jack. "What else is there?" she asked. "I feel like a six-year-old."

            "Well, once this is over we could go home and sit in front of the fireplace and wait for Santa." Jack's eyes sparkled with laughter. "But it's required that you have eggnog and hot chocolate. And presents."

            "On Christmas Eve?" Karen asked. 

            "Well, when did you open presents?" Jack wanted to know.

            "Christmas Day," Karen answered. "Always."

            "Well, we go by my rules now," Jack said. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, watching the snow.

* * * *

            Karen's eyes opened painfully. She was lying in the huge bed alone… again. She sat up, rubbing her eyes furiously and looking around. The window was decked with a huge evergreen garland and snow littered the windowsill. She winced at the ache in her shoulders and back, remembering the night before… Stan's crushing weight was as unbearable as ever.

            "Merry Christmas, Miss Karen."

            Rosario came in, wheeling the breakfast cart. "Where's Stan?" Karen asked, noting a new bruise on her arm. "He said he wasn't going to leave me alone this year."

            Rosario looked pained. "Miss Karen, Mr. Stan went out this morning and I don't know exactly where."

            "But it's Christmas," Karen said, her heart sinking.

            "I know," Rosario said. "I'm sorry."

            Karen tried valiantly to keep the corners of her mouth from turning down, but it proved impossible. She let her shoulders slump and her eyes fill up. "I hate him sometimes. I really do."

* * * *

            "Hey." Jack's voice startled her. "Are you going to ignore me all night?"

            Karen shook her head. "Sorry. I was just thinking." She squeezed his hand, thinking that it was nice to have someone next to you on the biggest family holiday of the year.

            "About what?"

            "The ghosts of Christmases past," she replied. "Nothing important."

            The carriage slowed to a stop right where they had begun, and Jack tipped the driver handsomely. He lifted Karen down from the high seat and set her on her feet again. "Wanna walk?" he asked. 

            The snow, combined with Jack's genuine eagerness to make her happy, was too beautiful to resist. She took his hand and Jack led her into the park. "You know, Stan never used to do things like this," Karen said. "He left me on my own a lot."

            Jack didn't say anything. "So now it's your turn," Karen continued. "You have to tell me why you came here drunk."

            Jack shook his head. "Is it really that important?"

            "Yes," Karen said. "Jack, come on. I just opened my past to you."

            Jack giggled. "Fine, fine. _Since_ you made such a crushing sacrifice and you're willing to pretend you _didn't need to tell anyone, I will let you in on my secret." He was quiet for a moment. "I was drunk this morning because… I was planning on doing something that I wouldn't have the courage to do otherwise."_

            "And what would that be?" Karen asked.

            Jack stopped and bent down to whisper in her ear. "Make love to you."

            It sent shivers down her spine. Karen shuddered involuntarily, from excitement or shock she didn't know. She looked up at Jack in astonishment. "What?"

            "You did stop me, so…" Jack trailed off. "Let's chalk it up to another pointless hangover, shall we?"

            Karen detected a trace of bitterness in his voice. "Jack, I… I don't even know what to say."

            "I don't either," Jack admitted as they started walking again. "I mean, I've been thinking about this for a long time, and I have no idea what to do."

            Karen looked up, musing. "You're the gayest man I've ever met, you know that?"

            "And possibly the most conflicted," Jack answered, laughing ruefully. "You know, I've been so immured in this 'gay identity' thing, and so determined to be proud of who I am that it totally blinded me to the fact that I had my eye on you the whole time."

            "Well, poodle, I'm flattered but…"

            "But what?" Jack turned desperate eyes on her, and Karen was surprised to see the depth of emotions. "But what, Karen? I'm not good enough?" He huffed, and started to walk ahead.

            "Oh, Jack!" Karen called after him as he sped up. "Of course you are! Are you kidding?" She caught up to him. "You're… you're the best, most decent man I've never known. You just… you should have _told_ me!"

            "Told you what?" Jack asked almost angrily. "That the Queen of the Queers is in love with you?"

            This declaration stunned Karen speechless.

            "Yeah! For years now!" Jack's voice was rising. "I've been crazy about you for years, Karen! And what the hell can I do about it? Nothing! Absolutely fucking nothing."

            People in the park were giving them odd looks as they passed by. Fortunately not many people were crazy enough to walk around this late in weather this cold, but there were a few stray people who were wondering what was going on.

            "Jack!" Karen cut him off before he had the chance to say anything further. "You goddamned idiot, don't you think I feel the same way?"

            It was Jack's turn to be speechless. "You what?"

            "Why didn't you tell me before?" Karen couldn't conceal the swirling emotions this whole episode was stirring up. She was inexplicably angry at him and so relieved she thought her legs would give way. She wasn't crazy, and he did feel what she felt. "You've strung me along for this long, and now you tell me? I have been married to two impossible assholes and now you do this?" She lost whatever control she had had over her emotions. Tears leaked down her face. "Damn it, Jack, you're impossible!"

            Here they were, facing each other in the middle of Central Park on Christmas Eve, it was _snowing for God's sake__, and they were__ yelling secrets they had sworn never to tell. Karen was struck by the oddness of the situation, and began to laugh._

            "What the hell is so funny?" Jack demanded.

            Karen wiped away the tears, shoulders shaking with half-hysterical laughter. "I don't know," she managed. "I'm just so messed up right now."

            "_You're messed up?" Jack yelled. "I'm a goddamned disaster scene!" He started to laugh too, and he didn't know why._

            Karen ended up having to hold onto him for support. "We're one big fucked-up mess!" she announced to no one in particular, and this just made them laugh harder.

            "Oh, god, Karen, we need to sit down," Jack gasped. Karen looked around for a bench, and nearly lost it as Jack plopped down in the middle of the clearing.

            "Not there!" she choked over her laughter. Jack giggled hysterically. 

            "Screw it." He buried his face in his hands. Karen abandoned all her former scruples about public places and sat down beside him. 

            "We are so screwed up," Jack said, their laughter subsiding. "Well, damn it, Karen, what are we supposed to do now?"

            "I have no idea," Karen replied, wiping her face with her scarf, a few stray giggles escaping. 

            Jack leaned on her. "You're supposed to know."

            "Says who?" Karen asked, looking up at him.

            Jack grabbed her and kissed her. "I have no idea." He got to his feet and helped her up. Her heels were less than practical for the accumulating snow. "Let's go the hell home."

            Karen stumbled along in the snow as they started to walk towards the exit, and finally toppled over. "For the love of God!" she exclaimed. "What is _with this city?"_

            Jack laughed and swung her up into his arms. "Hold on, Cinderella."

            Karen let him carry her to the limo, where Driver was still waiting, barely awake. "Hey! Hey!" Karen gave him a slap on the shoulder, and the elderly man snapped to attention. "Homeward, Driver."

            She rolled up the partition between the driver and the backseat and looked at Jack. "So is there anything more when we get home, Prince Charming? You did promise me hot chocolate and eggnog."

            "And presents," Jack said. "They're the most important part." He put one arm around his best friend. "We need to have a long talk."

            "We sure do," Karen agreed. 

            The big den was lit with a roaring fire in the marble fireplace, and Karen called for both eggnog and hot chocolate, but Jack refused to let her have anything alcoholic. "We've had too much," was his reason.

            "Honey, too much is never enough," was her reply, but she complied. She sat cross-legged in front of the fire (a skill only recently acquired, she reflected). Jack joined her, holding two mugs of steaming hot chocolate with marshmallows floating around. 

            He clinked his mug with hers. "To strange occasions, strange revelations, and a happy ending," he said, grinning mischievously. Karen laughed. 

            "You said it." They sipped the hot drinks, watching the flames dance. "So what's this part?" Karen asked.

            "Now's the part I tell you I love you," Jack said, and reached for the little box that was still on Karen's bed. "And give you this."

            Karen took the little present and tore off the pearly white wrapping paper. Inside was a small box (predictably!). She frowned. "This better not be a ring, Jack."

            "Don't be stupid," Jack said, grinning. "I can't even come to terms with the fact that I'm in love with you."

            Karen opened the box and took in a deep breath. It was a pendant on a silver chain. A rosy stone carved in shape of a rose adorned the simple silver disc. "It's rose quartz," Jack explained as Karen held the necklace up to the flickering firelight. "It symbolizes love and affection."

            Karen, who had never worn anything but precious jewels, was fascinated. "It's beautiful."

            "So are you," Jack said. He kissed her gently and helped her put on the necklace.

            "So listen," Karen said. "What's this about, really?"

            "Well," Jack said. "I think after we screamed at each other and had a total emotional breakdown in public, we're pretty much in the clear."

            "Yeah," Karen said, sipping more hot chocolate. "So you love me, huh?"

            "And you love me," Jack said. They were quiet for a long time. "Weird, huh?" Jack mused.

            "You're telling me," Karen replied. They didn't say anything. "So is this the part where we go to bed?" she asked after a while.

            Jack nearly choked on his hot chocolate. "You want to?"

            Karen laughed. "Well, god, yes."

            "Well…" Jack hesitated. "I don't exactly… um… I haven't…"

            Karen leaned over and kissed him deeply. "Stop worrying, you big wuss."

            The fire would go out on its own. 

* * * *

            The morning sunlight streamed in shafts through the blinds, icily bright and clear. Jack squinted and sat up. Incredibly soft sheets surrounded him. "Good lord," he yawned. "What is this, Egyptian cotton?"

            Karen's voice startled him. "Nine hundred thread count."

            Jack turned over and grinned. "Merry Christmas."

            Karen planted a peck on his lips. "Ditto."

            She rolled out of bed and draped a sheet around herself. "Hungry?"

            "Like a bear," Jack answered, looking around for his boxers. Their clothes were scattered haphazardly around the room. "Ah. There." Jack spotted the blue plaid draped over one of the dressers. He grinned. "Gotta go get my clothes."

            Karen watched with approval as Jack went naked across the room. "Oh yeah," she said. 

            Jack laughed and threw his shirt at her. "Turn around, Perversia."

            Karen laughed and flung the shirt away from her. Jack pulled on his boxers and sat down on the bed. "So?" Karen asked, standing in front of him, wrapped in the deep red sheets. "Still a queer boy?"

            Jack narrowed his eyes in mock-thoughtfulness. "Probably now I'm a bi-guy."

            Karen nearly collapsed with laughter. "Shut up."

            "But seriously," Jack said, his eyes sparkling. "I've got some reevaluation to do."

            "Sure you do," Karen said. "But I hear once you go Walker you never go… never mind."

            "Yeah," Jack laughed. "But remember what Grace said? Once you go Jack you never go back."

            Karen collapsed in giggles. "The shower's ready."

            "I'm hungry!" Jack protested. 

            "Oh, hush, Rosario's bringing the breakfast cart soon," Karen said, and sat down beside him. 

            Jack kissed her. "I enjoyed that."

            Karen looked wryly at him. "And you thought sex with a woman was repugnant."

            Jack grinned. "I stand corrected." He looked up thoughtfully. "Well, it's not _terrible…"_

            Karen swatted him. "Rudeness." 

            Rosario came in with breakfast and wasn't surprised to find Jack half-dressed and Karen wrapped in a sheet. She simply handed them the food and smiled. "Merry Christmas."

            "Same here, Ro-Ro," Jack said. He drained the coffee, ignoring the heat, and fell on the food with an eagerness that made Karen laugh.                                                                          

            "Are you always this hungry in the morning?" she asked.

            Jack leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Only after amazing sex."

            His tone made her shiver. Jack was falling into this so naturally, and it made her think. "Come on, Karen, eat something." Jack held out a pancake on a fork. It flopped limply off the tines and onto the plate again, splashing syrup over the side of the plate. Jack, unperturbed, simply mopped up the syrup with his finger and stuck it in his mouth. 

            Karen got up. "I think I'll take a shower."

            "Okay." Jack went back to the food. 

            The hot water from the shower woke her up. Karen let the stream run over her, thinking hard. Everything the night before had seemed so natural it was almost scary. How was it that Jack, the one man who had ever made her happy, was unobtainable? That was Jack, gay and thrilled about it.

            No, correct that. Lucas had made her happy. So had Stan, in his own hoagie-eating, beer-gulping way… but there was truly no substitute for a lover who was also a friend. The steam from the shower clouded up the big mirror inside, making her reflection indistinct. Karen had the momentary panicky feeling of losing her balance, and angrily wiped a swathe of steam off the glass, disgusted with her insecurity. Her face looked back at her, flushed with heat and happiness. She smiled at herself and then stuck her tongue out. "You need makeup and a martini," she said to her reflection, which mimed the words in backwards unison. She pressed her nose against the glass, vision blurring from the close proximity. "You're disgusting," she growled. "No you're not," she contradicted herself. "You're in love."

            "Are you going to talk to yourself in there?" Jack's voice came, amused, from the other side of the curtain. "How about a conversation partner?"

            He pulled open the curtain. Karen shrieked and attempted to cover herself with her hands. "Jack!"

            Jack stepped in and shut the curtain. "Yes?"

            "What are you doing?" Karen was horrified for some reason. She was confused as to why she felt this way, but as Jack reached for her bath gel she knew why. Here was a confrontation of last night in broad daylight.

            It wasn't like they hadn't showered together before. When Rosario had challenged them to three days in her bedroom, they hadn't been allowed to shower separately. And she wasn't going to lie: that had been fun. She'd had to keep her razor away from Jack, who was attempting to find out what shaving his legs would be like. Then he'd experimented with all her bath gels and lotions and shampoos until he smelled like a menagerie of flowers and fruits, almost overpowering. Of course those big blue eyes merited forgiveness right away-- and she had to admit he'd looked adorable plastered in foamy lather, aqua eyes innocent and delighted as he watched different color gels pour out into his waiting hands. Sometimes he surprised her with how young he acted. Other times he seemed like a fountain of quirky wisdom. He was truly a fascinating person.

            Jack, on the outside of this epiphany, observed Karen, who seemed to be deep in thought. He could certainly appreciate the lost look her eyes took on, how she seemed to focus on one thing as her mind ran into the odd shapes her thoughts undoubtedly took. Her hair fell into her face, dark wet strands twisting into loose curls (something he never knew her hair could do), and her eyes were that same awe-inspiring hazel-streaked-green color he had noticed right away on meeting her.  Another thing he could appreciate were those curves. Karen moved and flowed in all the right places, and even a gay man could enjoy that. He certainly did enjoy this intriguing woman with all his might, and the night before had opened his eyes to the fact that he must have all along and just never looked her way. How often had he come to her after a date, relating with relish all the details of the ribald evening, her small weight resting in his arms, hands wandering in all the perfect places? How often had they shared a dressing room in Barney's critiquing and fondling and laughing and trying out the latest styles, buying things they didn't need? Karen was his joy, and Jack was ready to admit that. He loved to kiss her and hold her and talk to her. Now if he could only figure out _how_ this had happened…

            Karen's reaching for the body pouf brought him out of his thoughts. She poured a copious amount of his favorite strawberry body wash onto the pouf and started to scrub. She didn't say anything.

            Jack let her think. He was insanely, unreasonably happy, and it overrode that little nagging voice that told him he really had to sit and think this out. The voice of reason was annoying. He dismissed it.

            "Want me to wash your hair?" he asked Karen, who came out of her thoughts with a start. 

            "Go ahead," she said, handing him the bottle of Herbal Essences shampoo with a grin. Jack inhaled the scent of the shampoo and poured a lot into his hand.

            Karen relaxed. It was nice to be pampered… every day of your life. She laughed involuntarily at this one. 

            "What?" Jack asked as he rinsed the bubbles from her hair.

            "Nothing," Karen said. "I'm just happy." Jack turned her around to face him and kissed her. 

            "Me too," he said, smiling down at her. 

            Karen leaned on his chest. "We have a lot to do today," she murmured into his skin. 

            "We do?"

            "We're expected at Wilma's at six, aren't we?"

            "You _remembered that?" Jack asked. "God, Karen, you really are a changed little vixen."_

            Karen laughed. "Honey, it's booze and food. I'm there."

            Jack's voice sparkled with his characteristic giggle. "True, true." He pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I'm going to wash up and we'll get dressed."

            Karen couldn't reach his head to wash his hair for him, so she settled for watching. God, she loved him.

            Fifteen minutes later they were sitting on her bed again in identical pink robes, and Jack was brushing his hair. Unlike hers, his hair would dry in ten minutes flat. Karen needed a blow dryer and a stylist. God bless money.

            True to that thought, two stylists came in a few minutes later and seated both Jack and Karen in big chairs and proceeded to do their hair. Jack looked like he'd died and landed in heaven. It was true, though, that this opulent lifestyle was a gay man's nirvana.

            Almost an hour later, when they'd been styled, primped, gone thoroughly through the closets for the perfect outfits, and spent a long time on accessories, they were sitting in the media room waiting for Rosario to bring popcorn and "Good Will Hunting". Jack looked over at his best friend. "So we're alone."

            "What are you suggesting?" Karen looked mischievous.

            "That we talk," Jack said. "The other thing is later." He grinned.

            "Okay. What about?" Karen asked.

            "This whole thing," Jack said. 

            Karen was quiet for a moment. "I'd like to enjoy it, if you don't mind."

            "Same here," Jack said. "Don't get the wrong idea. But seriously. That was monumental. And let's face it, for never being with a woman, it was the best experience with sex I have ever had. I mean, Will slept with a woman before he finally admitted to himself he was completely gay. I just feel like I'm doing the exact reverse."

            "Jack, I'm not asking you to be straight," Karen said. "That would be unfair, right?"

            "Yeah, but how can I keep dating guys when I've slept with you?" Jack asked. "It's a conundrum." He paused. "And why are you being so objective?"

            _So I don't get attached to what I can't have, she thought with a pang. "No reason. Just trying to be good about it."_

            Jack didn't say anything for a long moment. "To be very honest, I'm still in shock." He wrung his hands in his lap and then looked up at her. "You know I love you, right?"

            Karen nodded numbly. She didn't want to hear whatever was coming next.

            "So let's think about this for next couple of days and see what comes of it."

            Something inside Karen snapped. "For God's sake, _stop_ being so _reasonable_!" she exploded suddenly. "God _damn_ it, Jack! Don't you get it? I love you!"

            Jack let his head drop. "I know."

            "So what?" Karen got up. "So nothing? That means nothing to you?"

            Jack got up too. "Karen, don't say that!"

            "Then what do you want me to think?" Karen couldn't stop her voice from rising. "Then what, Jack? What?"

            "Karen, let me_ think_!" Jack's voice was louder than she had expected. "God, Karen! I can't just rebound from you!"

            "Why not? You do it all the time from all those other little flaming--" 

            "How dare you!" Jack cut her off. "Karen, you have no right--"

            "Get out, Jack." Karen's voice was low. "Just get out."

            Jack didn't say a word. The sound of the door slamming left an emptiness in the room that echoed in the hollowness Karen felt. She let the tears come.

* * * *

            The streets weren't crowded, and Jack ran from the terrible failure he'd managed to make of his plans and his Christmas. He ignored the snow and his chattering teeth. He'd left his coat in her room in his rush to get out of there. He had only his sweater and jeans and boots. It was brutally cold. Well, only a few blocks till he could get a taxi.

            God, he hated winter in New York. Cold and unproductive, and a huge waste. The whole season was steel-gray and white skies and that chill that seeps into everything you do. Into your very bones. Even the colors of the stores and lights seemed dulled. Jack clenched his jaw against the impulse to go back and get his coat. Two more blocks.

            A yellow cab pulled up beside him. "Hey. You look lost."

            Jack turned to see one of the most attractive men he had ever seen in his life. He felt his heart beat faster. "Hi."

            "Are you all right?" the guy's eyes were deep, deep black… Jack felt like he could drown in them. 

            "Yeah, I'm fine."  Jack didn't look at him. 

            "You don't look fine. Need a taxi?"

            _I sure do, Jack thought. "I was actually looking for one."_

            "Well, this sure is serendipity," the guy grinned. "Hop in."

            _You ain't kidding. Good Lord, I am being handed this delicious dish here! Jack's thoughts ran in wild circles. _Is this a test? I swear… someone up there is trying to kill me.__

_            "My name is Mark," the guy said. "Mark Jameson."_

            "Jack McFarland." Jack shook his hand over the steering wheel. 

            "What are you doing up here without a coat?" Mark asked as he headed down the block.

            "Oh." Jack felt his face heat up. "I… I kinda left it at a… a friend's house. I kinda rushed out."

            "Oh?" Mark looked intrigued. "A friend?"

            "Yeah, my friend Karen," Jack answered.                              

            "Oh." The grin fell from Mark's face.

            "Yeah, she had my Cher CD," Jack lied quickly.

            "Ah." The grin was back. 

            _Yes, I am gay! His mind was screaming at this beautiful man. _Take me!_ Okay that was an exaggeration. But he was so angry at Karen, and so confused, he was afraid he'd do something stupid. _

            "So, where to?"

            "Um, 155 Riverside?" Jack sounded like he was asking a question. He winced inwardly.

            "Okay." Mark was quiet for a while. He switched on the radio, on Z-100. Matchbox Twenty was playing, the newest single, and Jack thought how appropriate the words were.

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell,_

_I know, right now you can't tell._

_But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see_

_A different side of me._

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired,_

_I know, right now you don't care._

_But soon enough you're gonna think of me, _

_And how I used to be…_

_            He wasn't crazy… or maybe he was. Maybe he was just confused. He didn't know. Manhattan slid by in a menagerie of white, grey, and black. Empty streets. Normal people were with the people they loved today._

            Normal people knew what they wanted. Normal people could figure out whether they wanted a girlfriend or a boyfriend. Jack was pretty sure he was the only one caught in this limbo.

            Meanwhile, this gorgeous hunk of man was sitting next to him, driving him home, and giving him sympathy. "So are you sure you're all right?" Mark's voice broke into his thoughts, and for some reason Jack jumped like he'd been caught with something he wasn't supposed to have. 

            "Yeah, I'm okay," he lied. "I had a bad night."

            "What'd you do, sleep with a woman?" Mark looked over at him and Jack winced.

            "Oh, lord." Mark shook his head. 

            "How'd you know?" Jack was horrified.

            "You said you had a Cher CD," Mark said. "Plus you're wearing all my favorite brands. Cashmere, and not with a K."

            Jack blushed. "You wanna get a drink?" Mark asked.

            This offer brought him up short. "Uh…sure."

            "Good." Mark grinned. "Wow, I've never done that before."

            "Never done what?"

            "Asked a guy out in my taxi."

            Jack felt himself grin despite his confusion. "Some people just know quality."

            Mark laughed. "I know a great place."

            They headed off downtown.

* * * *

            Karen sat hugging a pillow from the sofa… she hadn't left the media room…and a big tumbler of liquor. She didn't even know what it was. She was too tired to figure it out.

            Music was playing in the background. She didn't know what it was. She didn't want to know. All she knew was that she was alone, and a few hours ago she had been happier than she'd ever been in her life. Another Christmas down the drain. She decided to pay attention to the music for once.

_O magnum mysterium,_

_O magnum mysterium,_

_Sacramentum,et__ admirabile_

_Et_ admirabile…__

_O magnum mysterium,_

_O magnum mysterium,_

_Viderent_ Dominum,__

_Ut_ animalia viderent Dominum natum,__

_Jacentem_ in praesepio…__

_Beata_ Virgo,__

_Cujus_ viscera meruerunt.__

            It was oddly soothing, this music, and Karen pouted. Classical music always made her feel better, but she'd rather eat fast food _in the restaurant in __Queens_ than admit that.

_Beata_ Virgo,__

_Portare_ Dominum Christum…__

_Alleluia, Alleluia!_

            He was gone. She didn't know if he would come back. His coat was lying in the front hall where he'd discarded it last evening. She was tempted to pick it up and put it on, but she resisted. She was furious at him. 

            She was furious at herself. She'd been so happy, and she made him angry. "What is _wrong with me?" she wondered out loud._

            The music swelled to a crescendo behind her, and Karen threw the pillow down and got up. Well, screw him. Conflicted and confused, with no thought for anyone else. Whatever he did, he did, and she obviously didn't matter. Let him go.

            The door shut behind her, and Karen got the acute feeling she was lying to herself.

* * * *

            Jack was on his third straight Bailey's. Jesus Christ, he was drunk out of his mind. He had the feeling he was drowning the night before. _You're in denial, Jack, he thought, and dismissed it. Let her be angry. There were other people in the world besides her, and she obviously had no concept of what it meant for a gay man to sleep with a woman. _

            Mark was being amazingly sympathetic. Jack had refused to tell him the details, but the whole way through this impromptu date Jack had been aching to say _something. He felt so attracted to this beautiful man… those big chocolate eyes, dark hair… shades of Karen._

            _Dear lord. There it goes again, he thought, and tossed back more liquor. He needed to get away from this._

            It was an hour before Mark took his hand and led him out of the bar. Jack didn't object. A fling was just what he needed.

            Mark's apartment was nice, nicer than Jack expected, and his bedroom was magnificent. And as Mark shut and locked the door behind him, Jack got the sense that he was making a mistake. He ignored it.

* * * *

            "Oh. Hangover."

            Those were Jack's first words on waking. He looked over at Mark, who was asleep, and sighed. Not even worth it. He distinctly remembered saying the name "Karen," but fortunately they'd both been too drunk to really react.

            Jack rolled out of bed and put on his clothes. He wasn't even going to bother waking Mark up. What did it matter? Just another meaningless night.

            He was being overly dramatic. Jack shook his head and snuck out the door.

            The cold morning air woke him up. What he really wanted was a big mug of coffee, but he would have to make do with the frigid fingers of wind. He looked up at the street signs and sighed. At least he wasn't far from home.

            Twenty minutes later he was collapsed on his sofa, home for the first time in two days. All he wanted was to escape, and he didn't know how or why. The point was he was home. And he didn't plan on going anywhere for a long time.

            He rolled over and looked up at the ceiling. "Merry Christmas, and happy holidays, Mr. McFarland," he muttered. He was disappointed, angry, and missing Karen with a vengeance. "This sucks."

            "You ain't kidding." 

            Karen's voice startled him. She emerged from behind the counter in the kitchen. Jack nearly fell off the sofa. "K-Karen!" he managed.

            Karen looked as if she'd been crying. Her makeup was running, streaked down her face, and she looked exhausted. "How did you get in here?" he gasped.

            "Honey, I pay half your rent," Karen reminded him. "I know you left the key under the plant outside." She came over and sat down heavily on the sofa beside him. A pillow lay there, and Jack noticed spots where it was soaked with tears. He wanted to put his arms around her, and feel fully the sweet, delicious relief of having her in his arms again, but he didn't move.

            Karen sat silently for a long moment. "I couldn't stay away anymore," she said suddenly. Her voice was numb, and she seemed to be focusing on nothing. "Oh, Jack." She turned huge, tear-filled eyes on him. "I got so drunk. I was trying to drown you, and I'm sorry." She reached out for him, and Jack let her into his arms, leaning back against the arm of the sofa. 

            One sob escaped her, and Jack buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet perfume of her shampoo. He held her tightly. "It's all right," he murmured. "I did the same thing."

            Karen leaned into his chest. "It was so bad. I was terrified. I've never been so drunk in my life."

            Jack found that hard to believe, but he didn't say anything. Karen looked up at him, and he simply smiled. "You're back, though, right?" he asked anxiously. "I don't know what I'd do…"

            "I'm back," Karen said, sitting up and wiping her eyes, smudging her makeup even more. "I'm back."

            Jack hugged her again. "Good. Go wash your face, beautiful."

            Karen gave him a huge, grateful, watery smile. "God… I love you, Jack."

            Jack felt his mouth stretch in the biggest smile of his life. "Ditto, Karen."

            As the bathroom door shut, Jack felt his old holiday joy come surging back. He leapt off the couch, did a _grande__ jete in the middle of the room, and smiled and smiled._

            It was going to be a merry Christmas after all.

* * * *

**Epilogue__**

****

**Some things just turn out right. Jack sat on the bleachers of the high school football field, watching Elliot in his first football game. What had possessed him to attend any sort of sports function, he didn't know, but his relationship with Karen had caused all sorts of things to go completely kerflooey, and he guessed this was one of those things. **

            Speaking of Karen, she was sitting next to him, hair blowing softly in the breeze, eyes wandering absently over the field. Jack leaned over. "What are you thinking about?" he whispered.

            She turned honest, open, beautiful hazel eyes on him. "You," she answered simply, and Jack grinned. He took her hand in his and kissed it. 

            "Good to know," he answered, and turned his eyes back to the field. Life was good, and it would stay that way as long as he had Karen by his side.


End file.
